


Might Have Been (A Few Drinks In)

by kay_emm_gee



Series: the kids aren't alright (The 100 tumblr prompts) [56]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, F/M, Family Feels, Love Confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 06:46:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5154152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kay_emm_gee/pseuds/kay_emm_gee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her brother is drunk, and Octavia did not sign up for this tonight. Neither did she sign up for his inebriated ramblings about Clarke, but it is what she gets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Might Have Been (A Few Drinks In)

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Bellarke + "i hope you kiss me really hard when I see you" after 2x16

Squinting upwards in the dark, Octavia took one look at her brother and groaned.

“You were supposed to be watching him, Miller!” She called up in frustration to the boys as they continued to race–more like drunkenly stumble–along the precarious architecture of the Ark’s top.

“I’m not his babysitter!”

“Yeah, O, he’s not my babysitter!”

“Will you two get down before you hu–”

Then Bellamy swore, and a few metallic thuds reverberated in the chilly night air.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Miller groaned, the only coherent word Octavia could make out between the two of them grumbling.

“Idiots,” she muttered under her breath, anger rising. “Damn idiots just had to get drunk and go climbing. I swear, I’m going to kill both of them.”

“Do you want me to go get them?” Lincoln offered, not even bothering to hide his grin.

“What are the chances you’ll get dragged into their lunacy?”

He chuckled under his breath. “Octavia.”

“What. I know my brother. His stupidity is like a disease.”

There was a brief grunt of protest from Bellamy, and then scrambling noises as the boys finally realized they were pushing their luck up there.

“I take great offense to that,” he proclaimed, making an unsteady descent, with Miller following pretty much on top of him. They swore at each other as boots clipped fingers, because there weren’t enough toe- or hand-holds, because _who in their damn mind would climb the damn Ark._

“You don’t get to take offense to anything, not when you smell like the inside of Monty’s still,” Octavia snapped.

Bellamy frowned mulishly and crossed his arms. Octavia grimaced, because he was about to get stubborn. Quickly, she caught Lincoln’s gaze and nodded towards Miller. Her partner slowly began herding the boy–whose eyes were starting to droop–towards the cabins, no doubt about to deposit him in their own so he wouldn’t get in trouble with his father.

“I guess I’m staying with you tonight then,” Octavia proclaimed reluctantly.

“Just like old times,” Bellamy replied.

She ignored the tinge of sadness in his voice, that same melancholy that popped up whenever their time before the ground was remembered. It unsettled her, that somehow, despite the tragedy they had experienced down here, it was still a better life than either of them could have had up there.

“C’mon big brother,” she murmured when she noticed his shoulders starting to slump and then slung his arm around her shoulders. “Bedtime.”

“S’not even late,” he mumbled, exhaustion and the liquor starting to drag him under finally.

Octavia grunted as he leaned more weight on her unconsciously, but the corners of her mouth quirked up, satisfaction slowly overriding her annoyance. It wasn’t often that her brother needed her help, especially these days when he practically ran the camp without much trouble, so it was nice, being able to support him, even if at the moment it was physically.

Luckily his steps weren’t all that unsteady, and Octavia only felt a tiny strain in her muscles by the time they reached his cabin. The first one built, though Bellamy had fought the decision to have it be his, arguing it should go to someone, anyone else.

 _Just consider it as a test run to make sure it doesn’t suck, which by the way it probably does since Wick designed it_ , Raven had argued with a sharp smile. _You know, if the roof collapses or the insulation is shit and you get frostbite, then we’ll only lose you, you know, not someone important._

 _Cute,_  Bellamy had muttered back, though he had squeezed Raven’s arm in thanks for some guilt-free reasons for accepting the decision.

Now, as her brother struggled to toe off his boots–she was  _not_  helping him with that one, as his feet smelled rank–Octavia looked around, realizing Bellamy had finally begun settling in. There were more of his clothes in here, and endless rolls of plans for future structures and reinforcements for the camp’s defenses. A smile started when she noticed the sole adornment on the walls: a small piece of paper, no bigger than her palm, tacked up to one of the slats and scribbled with his name, in his own handwriting.

 _I can’t believe they voted for me_ , he had said in a daze the night his election to the Council had been announced.

 _Of course we did, butthead_ , she had teased back.  _Who else were the delinquents going to trust?_

 _It wasn’t just you guys,_  he admitted in a quiet, disbelieving voice.  _The Arkers, the voted for me too. Kane told me, afterwards._

Her throat had closed up at that, at the sheer shock in his eyes.  _Why wouldn’t they?_  She had practically growled, indignant that he would think otherwise.

She wasn’t feeling indignant at his doubt now, however, because she realized that while he may have doubted others’ faith in him back then, he hadn’t doubted himself, not if he had voted for himself. All those months ago, despite the Mountain fight still fresh in their minds, he had finally started believing he was good enough to be more than just Aurora’s son, or the brother of the girl who had lived in the floor. Tears pricked her eyes in the warm cabin, because she was  _so_ proud of him.

“I thought the drunken person was supposed to be the one crying.” Bellamy was now next to her, grinning in amusement.

“Shut up,” she said, giving him a weak shove. Laughing, he fell back onto his bed, shaking his head in mock disapproval.

After sniffing back her tears and giving him a glare, she asked, “Why did you feel the need to get sloshed tonight anyways?”

The levity in his eyes snuffed out, like a torch flame blown out by a strong wind. “No reason.”

“Bell.”

“Leave it, O.”

Then she noticed the etchings on the wall near his pillow, the groups of four lines slashed through with a fifth diagonal one. There were ten of them.

“Oh,” she said tonelessly, her own amusement draining.

“Don’t. Not tonight, O,” he snapped, flopping back onto the bed and staring at the ceiling coldly. “Not tonight.”

Fifty lines for fifty days, as it had been fifty days since Clarke had left them all–left  _Bellamy_ –behind.

He turned his head to stare at her, muted hostility in the lines of his face. Octavia clenched her jaw for a minute, but when she saw the pleading in his eyes, she rolled her shoulders, warding off the tension building in her muscles.

“Move over, idiot,” she announced, poking his leg mercilessly. “I’m not sleeping on the floor just because your drunk friend commandeered my house and my boyfriend.”

“You don’t need to be jealous. Miller is plenty happy with Monty.”

“When did that happen?” Octavia squealed, momentarily distracted.

“Shit. I was not supposed to tell anybody that. You’re going to have to be my second, because Miller specifically said he’d challenge me to a duel if I told anybody.”

“I’m your sister. You’re allowed to tell me things you wouldn’t tell anybody else.”

Bellamy shifted uncomfortably at her words, and Octavia sighed, knowing what was coming.

“You don’t mean that,” he said quietly.

“I do.”

“Not about everything.”

“You mean about Clarke.”

His silence was all the answer she needed.

“Now’s the time, Bell,” she offered, probably too grudgingly. “I’m feeling sorry for you in your inebriated state and am taking pity. Go on, get it all out.”

“You sure?”

“I’m going to change my mind soon,” she warned.

And just like that, the words came pouring forth, her brother’s lips loosed by the alcohol and fifty long, hard days. Octavia braced herself, biting her own lips harder and harder to resist the dozen arguments that rose every time he defended Clarke and the two dozen agreements that bubbled up whenever he criticized her.

“I’m just so angry,” he said through gritted teeth. “She just announced that she had to leave, and I just stood there and watched her go. Fuck, I even hugged her and there were a thousand things I could’ve said to get her to stay, and I just, I couldn’t make myself say them. All my stupid fucking brain could focus on was the way she had kissed me on the cheek and how I should’ve just turned, a fraction of an inch, and maybe, maybe–and then she was walking away, she was  _leaving_ , and all I could think was ‘I hope you kiss me really hard when I see you again.’”

He drew in sucking breath at that, no doubt shocked that he had actually shared that with his sister. Octavia stayed very still, not wanting to spook him. As many issues as she had with Clarke, she knew her brother needed this, because he had been struggling without his partner. Still, she hadn’t known he was struggling with more than just the fact of his co-leader leaving him.

“She’s never coming back,” he said dully. “She’s not–she can’t–I’m not–”

“You are  _more_  than enough,” Octavia argued vehemently, clearing reading his incorrect train of thought. “For her, or for anyone. Don’t you fucking think otherwise.”

“What if she never comes back, O?”

Octavia closed her eyes, reached down, and grabbed her brother’s hand. With a tight, unforgiving squeeze, she promised, “Then we’ll go get her, okay?”

“You’re just saying that because I’m drunk, and I might not remember this in the morning.”

“Maybe.”

Bellamy chuckled, a raw but warm sound. “Thanks.”

“Idiot.”

“Love you, too.”

She snorted, then turned over, more than ready for sleep. Bellamy soon did the same, his breathing softening, evening out. When it was just a breathy hum, Octavia craned her head over her shoulder, looking at her brother, young and restful in sleep in a way he never was during the day, and might never be, especially if the princess never came home.

“I love you, too,” she whispered, resolving then and there to work on her anger towards Clarke, because there wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do for her big brother.

**Author's Note:**

> Come cry with me about Bellarke on tumblr (kay-emm-gee)!


End file.
